


Fight Fire with Fire

by Rehlia



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, Implied Crush, Implied/Referenced Character Death, King Papyrus, M/M, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Post-Undertale Neutral Route - King Papyrus Ending, Undertale Secret Santa 2017
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-15
Updated: 2018-01-15
Packaged: 2019-03-05 04:16:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13379985
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rehlia/pseuds/Rehlia
Summary: Papyrus is the king of all monsters, and that's fine. That's great! He's doing amazing, thank you very much.(He isn't accepting Grillby's offer to lend an ear because he has problems or anything.)





	Fight Fire with Fire

**Author's Note:**

> This is my Undertale Secret Santa Entry for Frankpanioncube over on Tumblr! I hope you like it ~

The hallways of the castle looked pristine.

Despite everything, that was one thing that hadn't changed. If anything it had gotten better - or worse? - in the aftermath of… that. A lot of monsters were in need of work, with production lowered to accommodate the new lack of customers. Many of them had been assigned to one of the puzzle teams, but some had been given jobs on the castle staff for cooking and especially cleaning. With everything there was to do, there was no way Papyrus could have kept the castle cleaned by himself, even if Sans had deigned to help. And he had no more time for cooking either.

He missed both. It had made him feel in control.

That was ridiculous of course. Papyrus was the King of the Underground. He controlled everything if he wanted. No monster had more control than he did.

Still.

The hallways of the castle looked pristine, and Papyrus hadn't done a single thing to make that state a reality.

That was fine! He had more important things to do, like governing, and designing puzzles in case another human fell, and being an inspiration to his people. But he was allowed to miss it, wasn't he? Surely he was allowed to miss having something normal to take care of, or the fun that came with a hobby pursued together with friends…

Perhaps, if he was being honest, that was what he truly missed. The companionship and comfort of his friends. His one friend. His only friend, if he was honest. He missed everyone else too, of course. The king most of all, for completely unselfish reasons! Mettaton, his grandeur and the optimism he could bring to the Underground. The Snowdin Canine Unit, even when he used to find the way they barked at his bones unsettling. Alphys, even though he hadn’t known her very well. Snowdrake and Chilldrake, despite their puns… so many others who had vanished. But Undyne - yes, he missed her above anyone else. She had been there for him and accepted his friendship when nobody else had. That would always make her special.

Papyurs sighed deeply, a sound that echoed through the empty hallways much louder than he intended. Immediately, he hoped nobody else heard it. The people were already so close to giving up on a daily basis. He had to be strong for them, they couldn’t hear him falter like this.

“...hello?”

Oh no.

The voice was quiet and crackling, warm and smoky in a way that threw him back into a barrage of memories - milkshakes and grease, warmth washing over his body after stepping inside and away from a crisp cold, a flickering and gentle light, the happy face of his brother, Undyne cramming cheese fries into her mouth.

A twinge in his ribcage spread and threatened to take his breath away, and Papyrus decided that he had to say something immediately to distract himself.

“OH, HELLO! WHAT A SURPRISE TO SEE YOU HERE AT THE CASTLE, IN THIS VERY CORRIDOR THAT I’M WALKING THROUGH! I DIDN’T SEE YOU STANDING THERE AT ALL!”

“........I’m burning,” Grillby pointed out slowly. That was perhaps a good argument. It shouldn't be hard to miss a person who was quite literally on fire. The fiery monster was also standing right in the middle of the hallway Papyrus had been walking through, making the whole thing only worse.

“WELL! YES! BUT I WAS DISTRACTED WITH VERY IMPORTANT ROYAL BUSINESS!”

“Such as?”

And as much as Papyrus tried, and he really tried very hard, he drew a blank. His mouth opened and nothing came out, not a single sound. No explanation, no easy laugh to wave it off, nothing that would extract him from this awkward situation.

“I was here for your brother,” Grillby said, his voice sounding less prying now, “but perhaps you need someone to listen to you more.”

It was a gentle offer, kind and careful, which in many ways made it hurt worse.

“I’M THE KING!” Papyrus somehow managed to press out. Surely that explained everything. He was the king and it was his job to support and inspire his people.

A king needed no help, a king needed to _be_ the help.

Grillby shrugged, apparently having used up his contingent of available words for today. He had never been one to talk more than necessary, and what he said so far already came close to a long speech in comparison to his usual brief sentences. He didn’t step aside to let Papyrus pass through the hallway either though.

Papyrus could have pushed past him; he was the king, was taller than Grillby, he wore armour, he had a trident to stomp importantly on the ground to summon support if the fire elemental really refused to budge. Maybe he should have done so. But something stopped him.

“I... DO MISS YOUR MILKSHAKES. SOMETIMES.”

Clearly, that had to be the reason he was hesitating. The great Papyrus didn't avoid issues. Not that there were issues.  
Grillby cocked his head, regarding Papyrus with an even expression.

Waiting.

“WE COULD GO TO THE KITCHEN. AND YOU COULD MAKE ME A MILKSHAKE. AND WE COULD TALK. ABOUT THE GOOD OLD TIMES!”

Grillby still didn’t speak, but inclined his head with a short, popping crackle of his fire. Papyrus had never spent as much time at Grillby’s as Sans had, and yet the sound felt so deeply nostalgic to him that it almost felt physical, intensifying the twinge in his ribcage until it was like an object that crammed itself there, pressing against the inner curve of his bones with each shifting breath until it threatened to emerge from his throat.

He finally pushed past Grillby, forwards into the corridor, so he would lead and Grillby had to follow. Unable to see his face for the moment.

Only because he was the king, of course.

“THE KITCHENS ARE THIS WAY,” he exclaimed. His voice wasn’t as calm as he would like it to be. He didn’t turn to check if Grillby was following him, but after only a couple of steps he noticed the flickering illumination staying steady behind him, giving away that the other had fallen perfectly into step. Papyrus felt as though he should say something, but he had a hard time coming up with a topic for some reason, so he stayed silent.

It didn’t take long for them to reach the kitchen together. When Papyrus turned around, he found Grillby taking one look around and then spring into action immediately. He moved confidently through the room as if he had worked here his entire life, opening fridges and cabinets seemingly without error. If he felt insecure about where something was or how to use the modern appliances, he didn’t show it.

Not that that bothered Papyrus in any way whatsoever. A king had no reason to be jealous of the ease and professionalism that this bartender showed. He felt nothing but appreciation. Like this, he would get his milkshake so much faster, and Grillby’s competence once more reminded him of Snowdin, of a time where things had been different and easier, and that was _fine_.

“SO HOW IS YOUR BAR DOING,” he asked, solely to fill the silence.

“............quiet,” Grillby rasped after a moment, before starting to mix the ingredients.

“AH, YES. THAT IS QUITE COMMON THROUGHOUT THE UNDERGROUND NOWADAYS. THE QUIET. IT’S, UHM.”

He wanted to say ‘nice’ but at the same time, he didn’t want to imply that it was a good thing, the state that hat led to the quiet and him being king and everything else. He waited for Grillby to say something. He was always waiting for people to say something these days, most of the time it would be something sad, and then he’d say something cheerful, and then hopefully the other would feel cheerful too and he’d feel good about fulfilling his kingly duties even though he had a creeping suspicion somewhere in the back of his skull that sitting on the throne smiling and being cheerful and making spaghetti and thinking about puzzles wasn’t _enough_.

But he had nothing else to do, and Grillby only looked back, calm and unflappable as ever, before placing the now finished milkshake in front of Papyrus.

It smelled sweet and nostalgic. It tasted sweet and nostalgic too, and flooded Papyrus with more of that bittersweet, aching longing for a time where a milkshake had been a drink and nothing more. Nothing painful. When he had been able to talk openly whenever he felt like it, instead of having the weight of duty pressing on his tongue.

Grillby invited him to talk though, didn’t he?

The barkeeper had always listened when people were sad, had listened to Sans and that drunk bunny and the punk hamster and the fish and all the other monsters that used to come to the bar. He was quiet yet attentive, well-known and yet not someone close, occupied exactly the right space between not being invested and able to care.

“I called the human today,” Papyrus admitted quietly, before he could even really think about the words that came out of his mouth. “Or rather, Sans called, and then told me to take over for a bit. They didn’t pick up so we both left a message.”

The fire on Grillby’s head flickered, whether with curiosity or alarm, Papyrus couldn't tell.

“I don't understand,” Papyrus continued. “Why didn't they pick up? After everything, it's the least they could… don't we deserve at least that much? Don't _I_ deserve that much?”

“Papyrus - “

He didn't wait for Grillby to finish his sentence. Whatever the other had wanted to say, it vanished under the onslaught that was suddenly pouring out of his mouth.

“I always pick up for others, within two rings, always. Day or night. Even at the times where everyone else is asleep, because I don’t sleep that much. Even during the times I was asleep too. But now nobody is picking up for me. Not the human and not… anyone else. I'm glad they're having so much fun on their - vacation, apparently. But it's not too much to ask for a single reply after all this time, it's…”

His words petered out and silence descended over the kitchen. It was late enough that most of the usual hustle and bustle of the castle had already died away, leaving only what little sounds he and Grillby made. The clicks of Papyrus’ bones as he leaned his arms against the countertop, the quiet whoosh and crackle of Grillby’s fire. The clink of the ice cubes in the milkshake as they melted under the proximity of Grillby’s warmth.

“I miss Undyne. The others too, but especially Undyne,” Papyrus admitted, his voice now so quiet that he almost couldn't hear himself. It increased in volume when he continued, his upset unable to be suppressed. “They shouldn't have made me king. I befriended that human. Invited them into my house. Asked them out for a date. It wasn't a very serious date, but we had fun and then… they… I make bad choices. I don't know why anyone would want me to make choices for them when I - “

“They did it,” Grillby interrupted him. The fiery rasp in his voice gave his words an edge that was impossible to ignore. “It wasn't your decision. They befriended you. They saw that monsters can be kind, through you. That we can be swayed from fighting despite our desire to escape. And they made their choice in spite of that. That's not your fault.”

It wasn't often that Grillby said so much at once, and when he did, people couldn't help but listen closely. His words had weight. For Papyrus, there was another factor compelling him to pay attention.

Grillby wasn't saying it, not outright. Nobody ever said it. At least not in front of Papyrus, despite the fact that he was their king. He himself didn't say it either. But Grillby came closer than anyone else ever did to saying it, closer than Papyrus himself or his brother Sans or all their advisors. Grillby may not use the words, but the meaning was clear as it could be. And that meant something.

Out of all the monsters in the Underground, all his subjects and all that he cared about, here was one who wasn't afraid to be honest with him, not afraid to treat him as more than a fragile child-king with barely enough power to give an impression of control. Usually he would strike that last thought, self-edit it away as unbefitting of the Great Papyrus, King of Monsters.

But honestly, what did it matter? He was already coming coming clean. Might as well go all the way while he was at it.

“I shouldn't be king,” he repeated. “I'm not a good one.”

“I disagree. You make people look to you. You give monsters hope.”

“I want to do more than just that!”

“Then do more.”

Papyrus huffed in frustration. Grillby made it sound so easy. He was so calm and confident in his statement. It wasn't easy! There were a lot of things that prevented him from acting differently than he had so far, not least of all his own brother. He couldn’t hurt Sans after everything his brother had done for him, and surely this would hurt him. Wouldn’t it? He had always prized Papyrus’ well-being and innocence.

“Do you think I could?” It was a rhetorical question only partially. The other part of him hoped for a genuine answer, no matter what that may look like.

Grillby nodded, and Papyrus couldn't help but wonder why the other was so sure on him. In spite of the fact that he had shown his insecurities so clearly, Grillby still seemed to be absolutely convinced that Papyrus could do this if he only tried. And it wasn't he blind belief in a monarch either, the way many monsters would look at Papyrus now, desperate for security and stability and believing that he would offer them both because that's what they wanted to believe. There was something else in Grillby’s eyes that defied the usual explanations Papyrus could come up with.

Something firmer and stronger. Warm and intense.

Even though he didn't know what it was, he found that he liked it. It intrigued him and made him feel more secure. Better than he had in a long time. His skull felt oddly prickly and he had trouble forming words, but he knew what the appropriate reply was of course.

“THANK YOU,” he said, his usual enthusiasm returning and with it his volume.

Grillby only gave him a happy crackle of fire in return, and a look that was proud and carried more of the inexplicable emotion that Papyrus just discovered there.

He was beginning to suspect what it might be.

And within all the misery of the past day, he immediately decided he wanted more of it.


End file.
